


Multiple orgasms and the cursed object

by ThePamelaOracle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dildos, Embarrassment, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 04:32:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePamelaOracle/pseuds/ThePamelaOracle
Summary: Dean knows better, he really does. But he's been cooped up in the bunker far too long and he needs a little action.





	Multiple orgasms and the cursed object

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zaphodsgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaphodsgirl/gifts).



> Written for Zaphodsgirl who was tremendously generous with her contribution to the [TrashBrigade](http://trashbrigade.tumblr.com/) Gisholarship fundraiser. Thank you! 
> 
> A huge thanks for [VioletHaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHaze/pseuds/VioletHaze) and [Blue_Morning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_morning/pseuds/blue_morning) for the beta. They have their work cut out for them.

**Now**

Dean drops his phone and comes again with a pained cry. This is his eighth orgasm in less than an hour. On paper a non-existent refractory period sounds great but he’s right now he’s over-stimulated, sore, and cranky. He tries once more to pull the dildo out of his ass. It still won’t move. He’s cursed, it’s cursed, whatever.

“This was a terrible idea,” he mumbles to himself as he pictures Sammy and Cas finding his dead naked body, ass-up on the bed with the bright pink toy sticking out of his ass. He’s not sure where he’s heading in the afterlife and he knows Sam would summon him just to laugh. Oh god, what if Tessa reaps him. 

“Siri, text Castiel,” he chokes out as the toy starts to thrust again. 

“What would you like to say?” the Australian-accented voice says. 

“Aaaaaah Cas, come here, I need you.” 

“The message says: Ah Cas come here I need you. Would you like me to send it?” The disembodied voice replies.

“Fuck, yes.” It’s more of a groan. While he usually appreciates the rereads, this is going to take too long. Moving carefully, he grabs the phone off the floor. It pings. 

 

_ To Dean: _

_ Do you really or are you just misquoting various figures from history.  _

 

The toy begins pounding Dean’s prostate. Normally, he loves it. But he’s over it. He steadies himself and types.

 

_ From Dean: _

_ What _

_ No _

_ Need Help _

_ Now _

_ My room _

 

_ To Dean _

_ Last week, you were sending random lyrics from love songs. Is this like that? _

 

_ From Dean:  _

_ No _

_ Help  _

_ Now  _

 

It’s all Dean can type without collapsing. 

 

_ To Dean:  _

_ Of course. I’ll be there presently.  _

Dean painfully climaxes once more. It’s only then that Dean realizes what he’s done. He can’t do this, he can’t have Cas see him like this: naked, hard, up on all fours, with an uncontrollable, rather large, flaming pink dildo up his ass. If the toy doesn’t kill him, the embarrassment might. He’s reaches for his phone to cancel the whole thing. 

He hears the tell-tale flutter of wings.

“Dean, what did you … “ Cas stops mid-sentence. 

Too late. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Cas says. Dean looks over to Cas, his friend might be blushing. He didn’t know angels could blush.  “Is this some sort of prank? I fail to see how this is funny.” 

Cas may be blushing but that’s definitely bad-ass angry angel voice. Fuck. Great, now Dean’s slightly afraid and, although it wouldn't seem impossible given the current situation, a little aroused.

Cas turns and reaches for the door. Shit, no no no no… a thought bubbles into Dean’s mind “Cas can’t go, I need him.” Huh, this is definitely not Dean Winchester’s normal narrative. Dean doesn’t really need anyone -- must be the desperation of the situation. 

“Cas, no, stay. I can... explain” Dean really doesn’t want to say the next line, he takes a deep breath, swallows hard. “I can’t get the dildo out.” 

Dean looks back at Cas, who does not say a thing, he just stares at Dean. Their eyes lock, and not for the first time, Dean wonders if the angel is wishing he’d left him in hell. The pause drags on long enough for the toy to start another round. Dean whimpers. 

“Explain,” is all Cas says. Dean is pretty sure having to explain this is worse than having a large pink cock in his ass.

________

 

**Then**

It’s been a quiet few weeks at the bunker, Dean decides to take Sam’s advice to indulge in a bit of self-care. Ok, so Sam hadn’t actually suggested taking collectible back issues of Buff Asian Angels to his room and spending some time with his hand, but close enough. The problem is that the magazines aren’t exactly where he left them. He’s not entirely surprised. The bunker is like a bit like Hogwarts with moving hallways and doors, and you can never be too sure that things will be where you left them. (But usually where you needed them to be in first place.)

It takes a bit of exploring but eventually he finds them on the bottom shelf of a bookcase he’s never seen stashed under a warded black box. Now Dean may not be Sammy-smart but he is not entirely stupid. Before picking it up, he looks at the scripts protecting the box. They are in Ancient Greek, not his best language, but it’s certainly enough to pick up a bar wench in Athens. The box describes the contents as bringing pleasure and dream fulfilment to the person holding the object. It doesn’t seem like a curse at all, it sounds like the tagline for those new Magnum condoms. The voice in the back of his head tells him no mojo comes without a price but how bad could a pleasure curse be. 

He really wants to open the box right there, but things aren’t warded for no reason. Dean snaps a few photos, dumps the box and the skin mags in his room. Dean heads to the library for some research -- not his favourite but the last time he skipped it he ended up in a alternate timeline in the middle of a weird daisy chain between Cas and a half-eaten roasted turkey. 

He tries, he really does, but after two hours of nothing, and unwilling to ask Cas or Sam to help find resources, he gives up and decides to open the box, alone, in his room. He is not sure exactly why he feels the need to be so secretive about this and really there is no need to put the others at risk. Not entirely convinced the item is harmless, he grabs salt, holy water, an iron fire poker and a lighter. Prep in place, he sits cross-legged on this bed with the box in his lap. He swears it’s a bit longer and narrower than he remembers. 

“Here goes nothing,” Dean says. 

He unlatches one side, then the other. The earth doesn’t tremble, the temperature doesn’t change, he’s still sitting on memory foam. He checks his phone, Donald Trump is still, unfortunately, president. 

“Here goes nothing” he says as he opens the box to reveal a large bright pink dildo, no markings, no warding. He takes it out of the box, stroking it gently, he finds no symbols engraved on hit, nothing at all to indicated that it might be magical except that he found it in a warded box. It feels like your average high quality dildo. 

“It’s play time.” 

Without giving it another thought, Dean disrobes, grabs some of the skin mags, and the lube. 

 

_ \---- _

 

**Now**

Castiel stands in the corner of room glaring at Dean. The silence is deafening.

“You knowingly inserted a cursed phallus into your rectum.” Dean is so fucked, last time he heard that tone of voice, Cas zapped him to a dark alley and beat him senseless, in retrospect that was kind of hot. “And now you want my help. Of course, Dean, let me save you, once again, from a situation that could have been avoided had you exercised some common sense.” 

Angel sarcasm. Great. But not entirely unwarranted. Dean cowers a bit. He should have known better he really should. But before he can say anything in his defense, Cas waves his hand. Dean screams in pain as something tries to eject the toy from his body. 

“Cas, stop!”

“Whatever this curse is, it is immune to my powers.” Cas reaches for the door again. “I’m going to discuss this with Sam.” 

The toy rams back into Dean, it’s getting longer and wider. If this keep up he’s going to choke on it from the inside.

“Noooooo, no Sam,” Dean hates how he pants that out as the dildo starts to move again. 

“Dean,  I am not sure how I am going to explain this to Sam but between us we can cover more lore…” Cas touches his shoulder. Dean leans into the touch as he feels the healing mojo numbing his sore hole. “This should help.” 

“Cas, how did you get it to stop?” Dean says barely able to look at Cas. 

“I didn’t. But it's interesting.” Cas removes his hand and picks up the discarded warded box, looking it over with interest.

Dean grunts. “... fuck,” he pants. “Started again.” 

Cas sits on the double bed, box still in hand.  For a reason that is beyond him, Dean scoots over until his arm is pressed against Cas’s. The toy stops again. Weird. Maybe angel proximity cancels the curse a bit. 

Cas says nothing but doesn’t move away. He runs his hand over the warding, shakes his head. The silence from his friend is more than Dean can handle right now. “Cas, talk to me. Please.” 

Cas stays silent and picks up one of the magazines off the bed and studies it closely. It dawns on Dean that the centrefold features a buff, dark-haired man with angel wings. His minds comes to a screeching halt as he realizes who else this could describe, fuck. The situation has gone from embarrassing to mortifying.

“Cas, I can explain…”

Cas puts the rag down and glares at Dean. “What is this?” 

Dean is afraid of what Cas is going to say next and tries to pull away, but he’s still on all fours. It’s hard to move. Cas grabs Dean’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. 

“Cas, buddy, it’s not like that...” The toy rams hard against him. Dean tries to get himself under control. 

“You have a cursed implement up your ass. You don’t know how to get it out. I suggest you answer the question before I get impatient and call Sam.”

“No, no… no Sam.” 

“Dean…” It’s a last warning. Cas stands to go. The dildo start to expand again. Dean screams.

“Cas, I …  ” The words die on Dean’s tongue as the fake cock vibrates. He doesn’t have the words. And he’s not sure what he’s going to say. And fuck, the toy is going to split him in half. Out of nowhere an image of Cas holding him through this, running his hands through his hair, kissing him floods his mind. In any other situation that would bring all his thought processes to a halt instead a single solitary tears runs down his cheek. Just deny everything, it’ll all be cool. 

“... don’t leave me. Please,” is what Dean says instead.    
  
Where the fuck did that come from? 

Cas is quiet, too quiet. 

Dean hears Cas sigh as he grabs a pillow and hands it to him. Their fingers brush, the toy shrinks but doesn’t stop entirely. 

“Get on your back, it will be more comfortable” Cas says. “This object is cursed. As your basic, crude knowledge of Ancient Greek suggests, it is about giving you pleasure. But pleasure that will turn on you and kill you unless you face the one thing you’ve been denying yourself. I’d like to check in on Sam, since most of your ridiculous actions seem to stem from trying to save him from his bad decisions.” 

“I know about… Sam,” Dean grunts. “Not in denial… about… that or anything else."

Cas chuckles dryly. “Dean, Dean, Dean. There isn’t a creature in the universe, that isn’t in denial about something. Figuring it out is how we catch the monsters,” Cas pauses as if he’s looking for his words, he runs his hand down Dean’s arm. Oddly, the dildo feels like it might slide out. 

“Tell me, Dean, deep down, what do you want?” Cas whispers into his ear like he knows. 

“I want this dildo out of my ass,” Dean growls angrily, pulling away from Cas and reaching behind him to grasp at the toy. He can’t get it out but at least it’s not thrusting or vibrating. “I am not in denial about anything, Cas. I do what I want when I want…” 

Cas gives a sad laugh as he leafs through the magazine. “Except apparently when it comes dark haired angels in male vessels. Why do humans make things so complicated.” 

He hucks the magazines at Dean. Damn it, Cas looks hurt. 

“Fine. Let this kill you. I’m not going to stand here and watch,” Cas stands and heads for the door.  “Pray if you have any… revelations. Actually, text Sam.”

“Cas…” but he’s too late and Cas slams the door behind him. Damn it, now he’s fucked up with Cas. It hurts more than his ass, and that hurts like hell too. As if to mock him, the toy comes to life again. 

“Fine be that way,” Dean mumbles to himself. So he jerks off to porn of people who look like his best friend who happens to be hot, especially when goes all dom-smitey. That’s kind of news, but not really. What he just doesn’t understand is why Cas is so upset with him. They’re friends, it’s normal to think your friends are attractive. He thought Pamela was attractive, Jo too. Maybe he and Cas could be fuck buddies. They can't, he knows it, just friends then. 

The toy suddenly seems to get bigger. It’s going to split him in half. Fuck. Honestly, he’s getting scared. He always knew the end would come in some sort of weird way, “the legendary Dean Winchester died alone when he got split in half by a big pink cursed sex toy.” It would be funny if it were anyone but him.

“Sigh,” he thinks to himself. “If this is it I need to make things right with Cas.” 

He’s about to pray and apologize to Cas, beg the angel to come back. But Dean sees the magazine Cas threw at him. It’s not the issue he’d been looking at originally, the first photo is of a prostrate a man with sandy hair in front of a naked angel with dark hair, large wings flared behind him. Hot. Reminds him of the first time he saw Cas in that barn. Dean was pissed off, scared and awed. Castiel stormed in all powerful, oblivious to the small man in front of him. Dean hadn’t felt worthy, still doesn’t. 

He turns the page. It’s not porn, it’s intimate for sure, but the men look a lot like him and Cas. It’s a collage of a couple in love: kissing, walking down the street holding hands, relaxing in bed, it’s intimate and beautiful. Guess he’ll never get to have that kind of relationship either, never get to have love requited. He's never admitted that this has bothered him before. 

“Fucked up end to a fucked up life,” he thinks. A little voice deep inside tries to speak up. But he quashes it down. He wishes for a life more ordinary, one where he and Cas don’t have heaven, hell and purgatory between them. Today is full of unusual thoughts and images. 

Then Dean notices the tattoos on the models in the magazine: his anti-possession symbol, Cas’s Enochian protection spell. It can’t be. He turns the page, photos from his phone are in the magazine: Cas in his cheap cowboy hat, the two of them grinning in front of the world’s biggest ball of twine, Cas looking sexy and disheveled after a hunt, a photo Sam sent him of the two of them looking into each other’s eyes. The toy shrinks a bit. 

Dean closes it, looks at the cover: Just the Buff Asian Angels cover like he remembers it. This is weird. But he opens it up and the photos are now clearly him and Cas. Leafing through, he stumbles upon a photo Cas looking up at Dean as Dean rides him and wonders for a moment what it would feel like to have Cas inside him, to have Cas call out his name with in ecstasy. Dean realizes that he wants this. He also wants to kiss and hold hands in the front seat of the Impala. Then it dawns on him, he wants the whole fucking relationship enchilada. 

_ “Dean Winchester, you dumbass, are in love with Castiel, angel of the lord.”  _

Wow.

Isn't that something. 

It's a revelation. The toy sputters, shrinks, and stops. Dean reaches behind him and pulls it out. He grabs a pair of comfy sleep pants but then on. He’ll deal with his sore ass in a minute. First, he's got a confession to make. 

“Hey Cas,” Dean prays, he prefers methods with less chance of heavenly interference like texting. Maybe praying is  the coward’s way of communicating, if Cas doesn’t respond Dean can pretend it never happened. “Listen, I don’t know how to say this. But I figured it out and… ummm…Can you come back please?”

With the sound of a familiar flutter of wings as Cas appears before him. There is no personal space between them. For once, Dean doesn’t mind. 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas sees the dildo on the bed. 

“Hey Cas, I’m... “ Dean words fail him. He’s never been good at the emotional moments. 

Cas smiles. 

“I know.”

"Can we?"

"Yes."

Dean leans forward and kisses Cas, just barely a touch of lips. Cas reaches up and pulls Dean closer. Dean feels the warm brush of grace against his soul.

“Did you just zap my ass better?”

“Mmmhmmm…” Cas says, now nuzzling at Dean’s neck. “Fair warning, I plan to make it sore again. I liked the look of that centerfold.”   
  



End file.
